


Lampshades on Fire

by Unknown



Series: Good News Is On The Way [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, College, Engagement, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Growing Up, M/M, Slice of Life, Trans Male Character, Trans!Eddie Kaspbrak, Weddings, but creepy af, creepy background, ftm eddie kaspbrak, mentions of past emotional abuse, missing memory, pennywise is in the bg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23329186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: And so, Richie and Eddie grow up - and so does their baby. As life progresses, they realize that something is chasing them. Something is calling them back to Derry. Or rather, someone.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Good News Is On The Way [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524356
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	1. Packed Up Our Cars, Moved To The Next Town

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash and I want that ring. I've used the ring design for others of my trans characters but I don't give a shit because it is my dream as a trans man to have that ring. Anyway. 
> 
> Sorry this took forever, but with the quarantine thing and me working from home (because I am very privileged and lucky to be able to do so) I thought, hey man, you've got like 3 of the 5 chapters written, might as well post. 
> 
> Once a week like I was doing before. Gives me time to write those last two! Enjoy!!! We follow their son Mickey as he grows, time jumping. I'll be putting the years at the top to keep track as we make our way toward 2016, when the second film took place. 
> 
> Um. Pennywise is just gonna be sneaking into their lives in the background, all sinister like and shit. Okay.

_ Three years later, 1996  _

“Oh, baby, no,” Eddie says absentmindedly as he simultaneously takes a block out of Mickey’s mouth and sorts through the mail. Richie should be home soon. Rachel is at work – she works the weekends, Friday through Sunday. Eddie has taken to working 10-hour shifts at the post office during the week so he only has to work four days and can spend all of Friday with Mickey. It’s summer, which is great because that means the Losers are in town for a few months on their break from school. 

School. That’s what Eddie’s been waiting on. 

It’s June. He hopes to be hearing from the University of Southern Maine, their campus just outside of Portland proper. He hasn’t yet, but even if they were denying him, he’d get a letter then, too. 

He’d just spent the day with Mickey in town, going to the park, going to visit Kyla at the office. Mickey  _ loves _ his grandmother and she adores him right back. But he’s definitely a daddy’s boy and sticks to Eddie and Richie like glue. It’s odd, being twenty years old and the parent of a three year old – well, almost three. Eddie doesn’t want to think about September, the party they have planned for the end of August so that the Losers and, by virtue, Mickey’s godparents, can be at the party. Their baby is already so big. It makes him upset sometimes. It doesn’t feel like any time has passed, and then at other times, it feels like it’s been so long. Eddie and Richie have had a handful of nights to themselves since Mickey was born, and while neither of them regrets it, sometimes, it  _ is _ nice to have even a minute without a toddler running around. 

“Daddy!” Mickey coos putting his cold, sticky hands on Eddie’s face. He’s sitting in his highchair eating a snack after their afternoon out. They’ve let his hair grow out in big curls, little glasses on his face. His eyesight is as shit as Richie’s is, unfortunately. He may have inherited Eddie’s eye shape and color but their finesse is all Richie. 

“What’s up, baby?” Eddie asks, still flipping through the mail. It’s hard, with six people living in one house. Everyone gets mail except for Mickey. He bops Mickey on the nose and keeps flipping, searching, and gets Mickey more apple slices. Parenthood has been a wild ride for Eddie. This past year, with Mickey getting into everything, had been a challenge. Eddie had had to battle with his internal alarm saying  _ do not touch the wet, gross things _ except, those things had been his own son, so he’d  _ had _ to touch them. Eddie has grown. A lot. 

“Apple,” Mickey says, making a grabby hand. “Peas.”

“Do you want an apple or peas?” Eddie teases. Mickey looks up at him through those thick glasses in confusion and Eddie smiles and hands him a few more slices, ignoring the mail for now. He presses a few kisses to Mickey’s head and then just presses his nose to his son’s curls as he eats his apple slices. For a moment, he’s so full of love he can’t breathe. Then Mickey is tugging on his shirt with those juice-stained hands and asking for peanut butter. 

Eddie goes to grab some, only partially lamenting his life. He wouldn’t give up Mickey for the world, he really wouldn’t.  _ And _ he gets to have Richie as well. But sometimes, he wishes things could move a little faster for them.

“I love you,” Eddie says to Mickey, handing him the peanut butter. 

“Lub you,” Mickey says, then shoves a whole apple slice sideways into his mouth. Eddie spends the next few minutes getting it out and explaining to his son why small bites are better. It’s what Richie walks in on when he comes in from work. Eddie is half crouched in front of Mickey’s highchair, trying to convince him that he should take bites out of the apple slice while Mickey is just shoveling peanut butter into his mouth and staring at Eddie, not listening but looking at Eddie like he strung up the sun. 

“Look at my two favorite boys,” Richie says, coming in. He’s done with his general duties at the station. Usually his show is later on in the night, but it’s Friday and he doesn’t have a show tonight. He hates that he has to take a couple of hours in the evening to actually do his show, but it’s Derry’s highest rated and most listened to show on air to date. Richie is proud, and he knows Eddie is too. And while it is only from 8PM to 10PM on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays (and Mickey goes to bed at 7PM) he misses the time he doesn’t get to spend with Eddie. 

But it’s Friday. And he has no show and tonight, Mickey goes to bed whenever he happens to fall asleep. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, absentmindedly. He finally looks away from their son and smiles at Richie, who’s heart is in his throat at the sight. 

“Ew, get out of here,” Richie says, but leans in to kiss him anyway. Eddie holds onto Richie’s shirt as they kiss and Richie holds it close to his heart. “How was your day?”

“We went to the park!” Eddie says, turning back to Mickey who grins up at them, peanut butter smeared across his mouth. “And we went to the creek next to Bill’s house. And we saw Uncle Bill, right baby?”

“Yeah!” Mickey caws. “Unca Biw.”

“Bi _ ll _ ,” Eddie says. “You think he needs to see a speech language pathologist?” Eddie says to Richie, smoothing down an errant curl in Mickey’s hair. “Maybe he isn’t developing the skills that are necessary to make the ell soun-”

“He’s fine,” Richie says, stopping him before Eddie can get himself in a tizzy. He rubs down Eddie’s arms and leans down to kiss him languorously. “I promise. You doing okay? You look a little beat, Spaghetti.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie assures him. “Just, you know, tired. I watch the kid all day on Fridays. Not that  _ you  _ would know what that feels like.”

“Lies!” Richie exclaims, and it’s true. Richie had watched Mickey all day by himself when Mickey was younger than he is now, when Richie’s radio station job had been a lot more relaxed and part time than it is now. Eddie knows. 

“Don’t get your thong in a twist,” Eddie mutters and presses their foreheads together. “How was your day?”

“Oh, same old, same old. Had coworkers and fans throw themselves at me and had to inform them that I had someone better at home,” Richie says. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s pliant mouth. “That’s you, dumbass.”

“I know,” Eddie says and smiles. Mickey throws an apple slice at them and Richie goes over. 

“Hey little man,” he says. “Look at you! Eating those apples. Did daddy get you those?”

“Papa!” Mickey squeals and smacks his hands on the plastic tray of his highchair. “Papa!”

“That’s me!” Richie says and blows a raspberry into Mickey’s neck. Eddie goes back to the mail, sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey babe,” Riche says. “Where’s his-”

“Right here,” Eddie says, handing Richie Mickey’s sippy cup without looking up from the mail pile. Bills, bills, coupons for groceries, bills, and… is that USM?

“Ah, Daddy always has the answers,” Richie says, oblivious for now. Eddie tears open the large envelope, his throat stuffed up with hope. He pulls out the letter and starts to read, tears in his eyes the further he goes. He haphazardly goes through the folder included, the paperwork tucked inside, and stares at the letter. Meanwhile, Richie is knelt in front of Mickey’s highchair, making him laugh, tickling the soles of his feet, talking to him. Richie loves their baby so much. The long nights and exhaustion, the time away from home – Mickey makes it all worth it. “And what is this?”

“Richie,” Eddie says, staring at the paperwork. Holy shit. Holy fucking  _ shit.  _ “Holy fucking shit, Richie. Richie.”

“What’s up, love of my life?” Richie says, only half listening. 

“Richie, I got into the University of Southern Maine,” Eddie says, choking on tears. “Oh my god, I’m going to  _ sob _ and get snot everywhere, this is  _ totally _ unsanitary.”

“Wait,  _ what?” _ Richie says, looking away from their son to Eddie. “Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says weakly, feeling lightheaded. “Don’t…”

“Eddie,” Richie says. Then he sighs to himself. Mickey pouts up at him. “God damn it, Eds. Forcing me into this position.”

“I haven’t…” Eddie can’t think. He got in.  _ He got in. _ And it’s more than that. A full ride. Scholarships for books.  _ Housing _ . Not just for him, at 20 years old, but for  _ all  _ of them… “Richie.” 

“Eddie, we gotta talk,” Richie says, turning from their son. He pulls something out that he’s had on him for that past year. Obviously, he couldn’t really do it right when they had Mickey. And then it was too much a year after. But two years. And now three? Richie has to man up  _ now _ doesn’t he? Now that Eddie has a full ride somewhere. And they’ll have to move, have to relocate. He can network better in a bigger city. Portland is close enough, and Richie’s bought his own car in the past year, one that can comfortably hold Mickey’s car seat. 

“Richie. I’ve got a full ride,” Eddie says, trying to make sense of the world. They want him. They really want him. “And…” Eddie can’t even talk. A full ride and housing for himself and his family? He’d always laughed at those ‘introduce yourself’ essays to get into college but when USM had asked he had told.  _ Hello, my name is Eddie Kaspbrak. I’m a gay, transman with a boyfriend who gave us a child. Our son is 3 and I’m 20. Here is our story.  _ And now they want him. They want  _ them. _

Richie is already down on one knee, the ring box in hand. He’s right next to Mickey, which can’t be helped. He’s got peanut butter and bits of apple in his hair because their almost-three-year-old is an asshole. And, honestly, it’s probably better this way. More honest. More them. Because they come with a baby and if they’re ever going to make this kid  _ not _ a bastard, one of them has to shape up, and it’s obviously not going to be Eddie, standing around looking dumbstruck with his eyes glued to a piece of paper. Plus, Richie already has a ring, so. 

“And we’ll move down and meet you in the city, I’ll find me and the kid an apartment, la-di-da, but hey, listen, doofus, pay attention,” Richie says, trying to get Eddie to look over at him. Mickey doesn’t help much, kicking out with his feet to see if his toes can reach Richie. They can. And they get him right in the ear. “Hey, ow, kid. No kicking!” he squeals, making Mickey laugh. He takes a moment to tickle Mickey’s toes, because he loves their kid’s laugh and he’s nervous as fuck. 

“No, Rich, you don’t  _ get _ it,” Eddie says, trying not to run around the house, screaming. He looks up.

At the same time that Eddie says, “They got housing for all  _ three _ of us,” Richie says, “Will you marry me?” 

“What,” Eddie says and stops, his grip on the paperwork going limp. His folder falls to the floor. 

“Uh, what what?” Richie responds. “They’re gonna pay for all three of us to live there?”

“You wanna get fucking  _ married, Richie?”  _ Eddie says instead. He’s staring at the ring in the little box Richie has. It’s rose gold, the top half with a few small, blue diamonds inlaid in the band. It’s like fancy, full-metal cotton candy. Even, he notices, a ring version of the transgender flag with its color scheme. Eddie loves it. He wants it on his hand so fucking badly right now, but he’s still trying to process that  _ Richie Tozier _ wants to get married to him at the tender age of 20. Not that Eddie thinks they’re in danger of splitting up any time soon, but this sort of throws on the breaks to separation. It’ll be a bit trickier to split when they have the law involved. But that’s sort of the point. And Eddie doesn’t  _ want _ them to split. They have a son together, a life together. Richie’s career is starting to take shape, slowly, and Eddie has just gotten the chance to start his. It’s wild. 

“Awh, c’mon, Eds, don’t make me beg,” Richie says, but he does look nervous. He shrugs. “What can I say? I love you so much, I wanna get the law involved. I mean, we technically  _ can _ legally get married in the state of Maine, because your birth-certificate still has an F on it.” Richie shrugs and Eddie gets a rush of want. He’s right. They can actually buy a marriage license. Holy shit. “I mean, as long as no one at city hall gives us a hard time.”

“Derry is barely a city,” Eddie interjects because it’s true and he doesn’t know what else to say. “And Old Lady Jenkins that works the notary office loves me. She helped me change my name when I was ten, remember?” Well, she had helped his mother, but Eddie just doesn’t talk about Sonia Kaspbrak these days. He’d caught sight of her at the grocery store the other day and had left the carriage, taken Mickey, and walked right out, groceries be damned. 

“Oh yeah!” Richie says, smile bright. He pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He feels great. Eddie doesn’t look like he’s going to say no. “Okay, so anyway. You wanna get hitched or what, man?” He nods his head over to Mickey who is once again embroiled in his peanut butter and apples. “Make that kid legit and revoke his bastard status.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Eddie laughs. He’s still staring. Holy shit, is this really happening? “Really?”

“Dude, I’m asking you. Seriously. I know I make jokes for a living, or at least for some of it, but yeah. I want to be with you for the rest of my life; I just don’t see myself with anyone but you.” Richie rubs the back of his neck. “So uh, this whole vulnerability thing is trash, but for you babe, I’d do anything.” He looks back up and gives Eddie a crooked smile, his heart in his throat.  _ Just say yes, _ Richie thinks, prays really. 

“Well, fuck, put it on me then!” Eddie snaps, shoving his hand in Richie’s face. Richie flounders with the box and drops it, the ring going skidding across the kitchen tile. He lunges for it, sliding into the cabinets and slamming his head. Five minutes later finds him sitting on the couch with an icepack on his head, Mickey in his lap, and Eddie sitting next to him filling out his college acceptance forms with the new ring glittering on his finger. 

“Papa has booboo,” Mickey says, patting Richie’s head gently with a little hand. Richie has since wiped him down and gotten rid of the peanut butter. Mickey looks up at Richie with Eddie’s eyes behind his glasses. They’re attached to his face with an elastic strap so they don’t fall off and it’s harder for him to rip them off – which he did for the first week, until he realized he could actually see his parents’ faces better and decided he  _ liked _ the glasses. 

“Yeah, Papa got a booboo,” Richie laughs, cuddling their son close. 

“Papa’s an idiot, that’s why,” Eddie mutters, eyes firmly on his paperwork. 

“You just agreed to marry that idiot, so who’s the real idiot, huh?” Richie says smugly. 

“Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!” Mickey giggles, clapping his little hands together. Eddie’s head shoots up in horror. 

“Richie!”

“Hey, you started it!” Richie yells back, trying valiantly – and failing – not to laugh. “That was  _ totally _ your fault.”

“That’s it, I’m not marrying you anymore.”

“Then give me back the ring.”

“No, I’m keeping it as collateral.”

“Collateral?” Richie scoffs. “For what?”

“Our son’s ruined innocence.”

“Eddie, he doesn’t even know what idiot means.”

“Idiot!” Mickey says again.

“No!” Eddie yelps, but Mickey can’t really hear it over Richie’s laugh.

* * *

In July, they suit up, get Mickey dressed in the fanciest thing he owns, pick up the Losers and Richie’s parents, and head over to Derry’s City Hall. 

They do it on a day they know won’t be too busy. It turns out to be a rainy Thursday. When they walk in, City Hall is deserted except for the receptionist. He doesn’t even look up when they all walk in, going to the public records and notary office. Inside, Mrs. Jenkins is just throwing away the remnants of her lunch. She grins when she sees Eddie poke his head in the doorway. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak!” she exclaims. Mrs. Jenkins is pushing 80, squints through bifocals, and dresses like a hippie that never got the memo that the millennium was coming to an end. Her brightly colored patchwork shirt and partially sequined skirt bring a brightness to the old, musty, wooden office with filing cabinets lining the walls around her. Her hair is grey-tone and drapes down her back. 

“Not for long,” Eddie says with a grin, opening the door all the way. The office isn’t huge, but it fits the eleven of them inside quite nicely. At the front are Eddie and Richie, Eddie in a blue suit and Richie in a green one carrying Mickey in his arms. Mickey’s just in a dress pants and a green button-down dress shirt, a clip-on bowtie at his neck. He waves at Mrs. Jenkins with a large grin. Occasionally, she’ll watch him if Rachel or Richie’s parents can’t. 

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” she asks, though Eddie is sure she can guess. Eddie waves his left hand at her, showing off his sparkling pink and blue engagement ring. Her eyes widen and gleam, but the smile never leaves her face. 

“Some jackass proposed to me and I stupidly said yes,” Eddie says. “And since my birth certificate  _ does  _ still say I’m female on it,” and at this he rolls his eyes, “that means we can legally get married.” He shrugs, trying not to feel nervous now that he’s actually saying it aloud. “Unless the person who files in the city denies us.”

“And I would never,” Mrs. Jenkins says, reaching into one of the filing cabinets for the paperwork. “You wanna do the whole shebang in here?” she asks, turning around. 

Richie waves a $20 bill around, hoisting Mickey up higher on his hip as he says, “Absolutely. Brought the whole posse in, too.” Mrs. Jenkins takes the money and puts it in a pouch in her desk drawer. Then she takes out a few pens, her stamp for the notarization, and then smiles up at them. 

“Well gentlemen?” she says, turning the paperwork toward them. She clears her desk of anything else. “We need witnesses. Or I can sign the witness and notary line.”

“We have witnesses,” Eddie says on a sigh of relief. Behind them, Bill and Mike step up, matching grins on their faces. Bill is in khakis and a blazer while Mike is in a burgundy suit. Richie’s parents stand to the side with Rachel, Stan, Beverly, and Ben. Between Stan and Ben, Beverly holds each of their hands in hers in her excitement. 

“Alright, boys. You two need to sign here,” Mrs. Jenkins points to the lines. She pauses. “Since you are both men, though not on paper, I guess it doesn’t matter where you sign?”

“I want to be the bride!” Richie crows, jostling Mickey. He clutches to his father’s lapels and pouts at him. “Sorry buddy.”

“Then you sign here,” Mrs. Jenkins says. Richie readjusts Mickey on his hip and does so. His hand is shaking. Mickey pats him on the face. 

“Papa looks sickie,” he says. 

“Papa’s just nervous,” Richie explains. “It’s okay.”

“Sign here, Eddie,” Mrs. Jenkins says. “And you said you weren’t keeping your last name?”

“In the next twenty minutes I’d like to be Edward Tozier, yes,” Eddie says, signing with his maiden name – is it still a maiden name, even as a guy? – for the last time. 

“Then sign these too,” Mrs. Jenkins says, handing him more papers. “This time, it’ll be easy, since the reason is marriage. No need to put it in front of a judge for that.” She rolls her eyes. Eddie signs those two and Mrs. Jenkins quickly signs and notarizes those in front of them. “So that’s done! Now, on the witness lines, you gentlemen in the back.” Bill and Mike come forward, Bill standing for Richie and Mike standing for Eddie. “Mr. Denbrough, Mr. Hanlon, wonderful to see you two. And don’t you boys look dashing!” She taps the paperwork. “Right there.”

With much grinning and jostling of one another, Bill and Mike sign where asked. The whole time, Bill doesn’t stutter, not even once, and Mike only ever drops his hand from Bill’s shoulder so he can sign on the line under Bill’s. When they’re done, they move back and let Eddie, Richie, and Mickey come forward again. 

“Now, I’m going to sign this, but if you boys have rings to exchange and vows to say, I’ll wait on applying the stamp and seal,” Mrs. Jenkins says. She’s been smiling the whole way, too. 

“I have the rings!” Ben calls from the sidelines. He manages to extract his hand from Beverly’s and pulls out a little satin bag with the wedding bands in them. He winks to Mickey as he walks over, then bops the toddler on the nose as he hands first one ring to Richie, then another to Eddie. Their wedding bands are rose gold to match Eddie’s engagement band. Just simple, traditional wedding bands that they’ll get engraved with their wedding date on the underside later on. “You’ve got this. Want me to take the baby?”

“Nah,” Richie says even as Mickey clings to him and gives a tiny glare in Ben’s direction at the prospect of being separated from his parents. “We’ll just toss him to each other so we can read our vows.”

“You wrote them down?” Eddie says with a scoff. Richie’s heart is in his throat. Why, hadn’t Eddie? Or had he just memorized them? Or did he not have anything to say?

“What, you didn’t?” Richie asks. Oh god, this is so embarrassing. But then Eddie cracks that wonderful smile and Richie goes, “You asshole!”

“ _ Of course, _ I wrote them down, Richie,” Eddie says, pulling a folded-up sheet of paper from his inside breast pocket. “Just messing with you.” 

“I feel like this just isn’t the time to mess with someone,” Richie says, smiling despite his words. “But you know what? I’m ashamed that I didn’t think of screwing with you on our wedding day. I must have tact or something.”

“You, tact?” Eddie snorts, unfolding his vows. “Yeah, okay. That’s probably the funniest joke you’ve ever told. I guess you are getting better at this. I’m going first, by the way, since you’re already holding the baby.”

“Gee, yeah, I can see that,” Richie says. He swallows hard. He’s really just talking a lot because he’s trying not to cry and he can hear Ben and Beverly already starting up the sob fest to the side of them. 

“Richie,” Eddie starts, but then his words blur. Fuck. He’s going to cry too. Richie sees the sparkle of tears in Eddie’s eyes and wants to scream about it. But he lets Eddie continue. “Richie,” Eddie starts again. “When I first met you, I thought you were obnoxious and loud. Fourteen years later, I can confirm that is  _ exactly _ how you are.” Bill snorts so loud even Mrs. Jenkins hears it and she’s going deaf in her left ear. Eddie looks up to see the watery smile on Richie’s face, their son with his head on Richie’s shoulder, dozing off, and not knowing that this is one of the most important days in his parents’ lives. “And I love you for being my voice when I couldn’t speak, for sticking up for me when I couldn’t stand, for being there even when I thought I didn’t want you there. Because I’ve learned now that I always want you there.” He looks at his paper, at the words he took weeks to get out because he’s not the talker, Richie is. “Richie, if someone had told me at 13 that I was going to have a baby with you and then get married three years later, I would have kicked them in the groin and run for the hills.” Richie laughs, startling Mickey out of his doze. “But here we are. I couldn’t have done any of it without you. And I’m glad we did it all together. I want to keep doing life with you.” He folds up the paper and tucks it away again. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” He stops. “Well, besides our kid, but I think that was a group effort.”

“Definitely a group effort,” Richie agrees, Mickey settling back against his shoulder. “Speaking of, take him, he’s heavy and it’s my turn.” Eddie rolls his eyes and then wipes at them, smearing the tears away before he takes Mickey and settles him against his shoulder so he can hear whatever utter nonsense Richie has to say. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Lay it on me, funny man.”

“Eddie, I’ve been in love with you since we were six,” Richie starts. 

“I call bull,” Eddie interjects. “We met when we were six.”

“Great, I’ve loved you since I met you. Can I finish please, Spaghetti?” Richie asks, only pretending to be insulted. “Rude.”

“Okay, look, you didn’t stamp anything yet, right?” Eddie says to Mrs. Jenkins. “I can still back out of this?” But he has a smile on his face and even Mrs. Jenkins is laughing. 

“Fuck you,” Richie says, just to see Eddie’s mouth drop open in horror. 

“Richie! No swearing in front of the baby!”

“He’s three, he doesn’t even know what fuck means,” Richie says. 

“Just – just read your vows, man!” Eddie says in exasperation. “Please.”

“Right, as I was saying before  _ someone _ rudely interrupted, I’ve loved you since we were six. And…” Richie trails off, feeling so soft and serious. He looks at Eddie over his glasses, a blurry smudge holding a blurry smudge. He pushes up his glasses so he can see his very-soon-to-be husband and their son. “The day I carved our initials into the bridge, I was so scared someone would see me and ask who the E was,” Richie starts. The room goes quiet. “I did it anyway. Because letting a little bit of my love out was better than keeping it bottled in. And no, I don’t really remember why I thought it was a good idea to tell you and show you that summer. Maybe it’s just cos I was 13 and horny, who knows?” Eddie actually laughs at that. “But I’m glad I did, because now I get to marry my best friend.” He turns to the Losers, watching on in various states of tearfulness. “No offense you guys, but this is my Eds we’re talking about.”

“None taken,” Ben responds for the lot of them, even though he’s in the process of accepting a tissue from Stan. 

Richie shoves his paper into his back pocket and says, “I want to keep doing life with you, too. We’re 20 now, and I think in another 20 years, we’re still gonna be us, the two guys that grew together and lived life together. Just, you’ll have grey in your hair cos you worry so much and I’ll be hotter.” 

“Richie, be serious,” his mother scolds from the side, though she’s dabbing at her eyes too. 

“I will be hotter!” Richie exclaims. 

“He probably will be, Mrs. T.,” Eddie chuckles. He leans in to kiss Richie and then says, “Fuck, we forgot the rings!” then slaps his free hand over his mouth at the swear. But Mickey has fallen asleep on him and hasn’t heard a word of his fathers’ love for each other. 

“Fuck we did forget the rings!” Richie teases. “You spoke first, so you go first.” Richie extends his hand, shaking, then realizes Eddie probably can’t put the ring on him  _ and _ hold a sleeping toddler. “Okay, new plan. Stan, come hold your godson, we need both hands to do this.” Stan rolls his eyes, but he does come up and take Mickey from Eddie. Beverly grabs the blanket that Rachel had thought to bring and drapes it over Mickey where he’s laid against Stan’s shoulder. When Eddie and Richie are sure their son is comfortable, they get back to their wedding. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, taking Richie’s ring in hand. Richie has bigger fingers than him, so he spins the ring around his index finger for a moment. “C’mere.” Richie gets closer and sticks out his left hand again. He’s shaking. He’s always shaking around Eddie, because Eddie makes him  _ feel _ so damn much. But Eddie is shaking too. He grabs Richie’s hand gently and sides the wedding band up snuggly against his knuckle. Then he squeezes Richie’s hand and sticks out his own. 

“I need my other hand, Eds,” Richie says. Eddie doesn’t comment on the Eds thing, but he does let go of Richie’s hand. Richie takes his hand and swallows hard. He slides the wedding band up until it clinks against Eddie’s engagement ring. He lets out a breath and looks up at Eddie’s smiling face. They’re holding hands again. Richie turns to Mrs. Jenkins. “Okay, I think we’re good to go now.”

“Okay!” she says, her voice high pitched with excitement. She signs her name, stamps the paperwork, and then presses in the seal. “By the power vested in me by the state of Maine, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Tozier. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Eddie Tozier,” she says with a grin. Richie is caught mid-laugh by Eddie pressing their lips together. 

In front of their friends and family, Eddie and Richie are actually,  _ finally _ married. 

* * *

They drive up to Bangor to an Irish pub they have a reservation at. It has a rainbow flag hanging from the outside window out onto the street. At the far back of the pub, they have a whole section of tables for themselves. Mickey is currently sitting in Stan’s lap and stuffing his face with some vegetable medley. Beverly is taking pictures with Rachel, both women laughing. Richie’s parents are speaking with Beverly’s aunts who had met up with them after the service. Ben, Bill, and Mike are crowded around the jukebox, whispering heatedly. 

They’ve just finished up their meals and are waiting on dessert. Eddie is staring at the payphone in the doorway. 

“What’s up?” his  _ new husband _ asks him. Eddie is loving this. They’re far back enough – and the place is empty enough – that Eddie actually kisses Richie’s mouth instead of answering. But he knows he needs to answer too. He doesn’t know how to word it, though. 

It’s because he can’t stop thinking about his mom. 

He’d called her when he first got engaged, but she can recognize Richie’s parent’s landline number. He’d thought of calling from someone else’s phone, and he’d gone to Bill’s and done that. But she hadn’t picked up either. So he’d left a message and damned himself because now, if she had been avoiding him, she’d know what other number not to pick up for. Regardless, he’d called last night too and nothing. He wonders if she just doesn’t pick up for numbers she doesn’t recognize. He hasn’t seen her since that one time at the grocery store. Maybe she had seen him and had been taking extra care to avoid him too. 

Now, he wants to call her. Maybe they can make amends. Maybe he can make her see there’s nothing wrong with him. Maybe if she sees his family, she’ll understand. 

No, he knows it’s stupid. 

“Just… thinking about my mom, that’s all,” Eddie mutters against Richie’s mouth. He pulls away and hates the frown marring Richie’s face. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, my parents are here. Bev’s aunts are here. But… not your mom.” He brushes Eddie’s bangs out of his face. “I get it.” He stops. “Well, I mean. I don’t  _ get it _ get it, but I get it, you know?”

Eddie laughs, “I know.”

“You wanna try calling again?” Richie offers. “I got a couple quarters with your name on em.”

“No,” Eddie says with a sigh. “No. I…” He presses his forehead to Richie’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s been three years. If she doesn’t want to see me then I can’t force it. I just… sometimes something happens and I wish I could tell her and that she’d be  _ happy  _ for me, cos the truth is – the truth is…”

“Eddie,” Richie murmurs. 

“The truth is, even before all of this, she  _ wouldn’t _ be happy for me. She was never happy for me unless I was doing something for her or that  _ she  _ liked.” Eddie looks up at him. “But  _ I’m _ happy for me, for us. I’m  _ happy _ , Richie. You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too, you goof,” Richie says. He’s grinning. “And now we’re married. Like, actually married.”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans. “That’s wild.” 

“Isn’t it, Mr. Tozier?” Richie asks. The way he says it makes Eddie’s cock jump a bit. He squints at Richie. 

“Asshole,” he says. Richie smiles in response. “Let’s get through dessert and go from there.” 

It’s at that moment that the jukebox comes to life. The opening notes to  _ Africa _ by Toto start to play. Ben, Mike, and Bill are all grinning at the jukebox. Eddie has a bad feeling about this. So does Richie. 

“You guys need a wedding da-dance,” Bill stutters out. 

“Man’s got a point,” Mike says, patting him on the back. 

“And isn’t this your song?” Ben asks. Across from them, Stan is trying not to laugh as Bobby Kimball starts singing, and Beverly starts to clap and chant,  _ dance, dance, dance! _

Mickey claps his hands together too and says, “Dance!” even though he has no idea why his parents would be dancing. But Beverly is smiling and the clapping seems like a good idea. 

“Even the kid wants us to dance,” Richie mutters. “Okay, okay.” Then he actually gets up. 

“What?” Eddie says. “I don’t wanna dance!” 

“Don’t be a big baby, we already have one of those,” Richie says, offering his hand. It’s the left hand and just seeing the wedding band on his finger is making Eddie weak. He takes Richie’s hand. 

They don’t have much space at the back of the pub, but Ben and Bill have moved some of the chairs around in their area. Right when Bobby Kimball calls  _ hurry boy, it’s waiting there for you _ , Richie spins him out and back into his arms. 

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you,” Richie whispers with a grin. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“There’s nothing that a thousand men or more could ever do,” he says back, but he loves it. 

They let the song continue, swaying, turning, laughing. Rachel is taking  _ so _ many pictures and his dad is 100% filming this embarrassing feat, but part of Richie doesn’t care. Eddie is smiling, Mickey is clapping and wiggling his own version of a dance in Stan’s lap, and the most important people to them are here. 

_ “Gonna take some time to do the things we never had,” _ Richie sings in a whisper as he spins Eddie one last time and the song winds down. Their audience claps, including some of the bartenders and the few patrons in the pub at this time. Eddie is bright red, but he lets Richie spin him close and kiss him quick before dragging him back to their table. 

“That was embarrassing,” Eddie says into his hands. Richie kisses the side of his face and then takes Mickey, who’s leaning over the table with his arms out, begging to be picked up. 

“I don’t think so,” Richie lies. One of them has to save face. “You having fun, baby?” he says to Mickey who nods like his head is a bobblehead about to pop off. 

“Of course he’s having fun, he’s three,” Eddie says, kissing Mickey’s forehead and then grabbing a napkin to wipe his drooly mouth. 

“Not yet, he’s not,” Richie says. 

* * *

Mickey  _ still _ isn’t three on the day they have his birthday party, but next week, the Losers have to start heading back to school. As it is, Eddie and Richie are in the process of packing up to head to Portland where they’ll be living for the next four years until Eddie graduates. After that, it’s anyone’s game. 

“So how did you land housing again?” Ben asks. There’s a few little kids from the neighborhood whose parents are complete assholes and let them play with Mickey. The kids are toddling about in the backyard of Richie’s parent’s house, playing in the sandbox and the jungle gym.

“I guess for visiting or international professors, they provide housing. Also, for profs that they get to come from out of state,” Eddie says. “So, this one department was getting absorbed into another and the head of that department was one of those professors. But he was retiring, and they aren’t hiring another professor to fill his spot because of the aforementioned merger.” Eddie shrugs. “They said admissions petitioned to use it for me for the next four years and they got the greenlight.” 

“They must have re-really wanted y-you,” Bill says. 

“Yeah, for publicity, maybe,” Eddie responds. Richie and Mike are running around with the kids while Beverly and Richie’s dad, Tom, man the barbecue. He waves to Richie, then Tom, then turns back to Stan’s crumpled face where he’s sitting by Bill. “I’m not gonna kid myself. A trans parent with a same-gender spouse? Nothing screams diversity like the queers and their babies.” He shrugs. “Whatever. My school is paid for, my family has somewhere to live. One of the indie radio stations in downtown Portland agreed to take Richie on. They have him down for the night shift when his crass version of humor is allowed to legally air. Swearing and all that, the FCC has rules for it.”

“That’s good at least,” Stan says. “You won’t be starving to death.”

“No,” Eddie chuckles. “We won’t be starving to death. And we won’t be in Derry, either.” The way he heard it, Portland is a lot more open-minded and full of different people. He’ll take that over Derry any day. 

“What a relief, huh?” Ben says. “The first month I left here, it was like…I just  _ left  _ it all behind. I didn’t even call my mom until she called my dorm room and wondered if I was alive. Then I suddenly remembered. You guys. The baby.  _ Derry _ .” He shakes his head. 

“Yeah,” Bill says, nodding. “Me too. That’s so we-weird.”

“Me too,” Stan muses. “Huh. That’s so odd.”

“Maybe,” Eddie murmurs. “Okay, so then, someone call us the first day we move in. I’m not about to forget the best people in my life in a frenzy of  _ thank god I’m out of there. _ ”

“You got it,” Stan says. “I want to listen to my godson talk about all the buildings and people.” He grins. 

The rest of the day goes well. Mickey shrieks with laughter at getting his face smushed into his cake, instead of crying like he had the year before. He opens a few presents before he gets bored and then all the kids run off to play in the sandbox before their parents come to pick them up. Richie helps clean up the picnic tables and bring in food while Eddie keeps an eye on the kids. He’s doing a headcount – something everyone makes fun of him for because they’re in the backyard, so what could possibly be the issue? – when he notices that someone’s missing. 

Mickey. 

“Mickey?” Eddie calls out, looking around the backyard. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and he can’t swallow. “Mickey?” he calls out. Richie comes out from the backdoor to the kitchen and frowns. 

“What’s wrong-”

“Mickey’s not in the backyard,” Eddie snaps. He looks around and sees the back gate unlatched and gets lightheaded all of a sudden. “Rich, the gate.” Leaving the other Losers to watch the rest of the kids, ignorant of the goings-on, Richie and Eddie sprint out the back gate, calling for their son. 

“Macaulay!” Richie crows. “Mickey, c’mon!” Oh god, oh god, what if someone took him? How had he opened the gate on his own? How had he wandered off so far? “Mick-”

“Over there!” Eddie gasps, feeling flushed from head to toe in relief. Mickey is a block ahead of them, under the shade of a maple tree. He’s squatting on the side of the road by the sidewalk, right where the sewer opened up. 

He’s talking. 

“… it dark. But it my birthday! You have present? For me!” His little head is bent down, trying to get a good look in the dark. 

Eddie doesn’t know where the terror comes from. He doesn’t understand it. He sort of doesn’t want to. His son is probably talking to an imaginary friend, just wandered out of the yard in a fit of boredom and curiosity. But the sewer. The dark. There’s something wrong. He shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be that close. One look at Richie’s white face tells Eddie all he needs to know. Richie knows this is dangerous too. 

“Mickey!” Eddie yells and then he and Richie are running over to him. They snatch him up and retreat from the sewer as far as possible before they need to stop and catch their breath. Richie takes Mickey and checks him over for injury, but upon finding nothing, he smashes Mickey’s little body to his chest and wraps his arms around him. He’s shaking. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie and holds on tight. He’s shaking too. 

“Daddy? Papa?” Mickey asks in confusion. 

“Macaulay Iowan Tozier you don’t  _ ever _ leave the yard without telling a grownup!” Eddie cries, fat tears rolling down his face. He can’t help it. He doesn’t think he could stand right now even if he tried. 

“Buddy, why did you leave?” Richie asks, petting down Mickey’s hair. He’s still shaking. He refuses to let go of their son. For that minute that they couldn’t find him he had thought the absolute worst had happened. He doesn’t feel better even though now they have him back, safe and sound. That sewer. Richie is  _ terrified _ of the sewer. 

“Someone called me,” Mickey says, as though it should be obvious “My friend.”

“Your… friend,” Eddie says, wiping his face and pulling back. He doesn’t want to look down the street to the sewer they had found Mickey leaning over. “What friend?”

“Dunno,” Mickey says. “It looked shiny!” He grins and at the mention of  _ shine _ Richie feels his fingers and toes go numb. 

“What was shiny?”

“Eyes!” Mickey says, clapping. “Shiny eyes!”

“In – in the sewer?” Eddie whispers in horror. 

“Yeah!” Mickey exclaims, happy. “Wanna meet?”

“NO!” Eddie and Richie yelp together. 

“Nope, we have your party, remember?” Richie says. He doesn’t want Mickey to freak out by seeing how freaked out they are, but they’re pretty fucking freaked out. This way, they have the other Losers around too, making them feel that much safer. 

“Party!” Mickey chants. “Party, party, party!” Eddie finally stands and helps Richie up. They make a mad dash down the street, turning corners and getting as far from that sewer opening as possible. They make it back just as parents are pulling up and picking up their toddlers. They keep it quiet and civil, and later on that evening, once Mickey is tuckered out, asleep, and surrounded by toys and coloring books, they talk to their friends. 

“He was by a sew-sewer?” Bill asks, going pale. Richie’s parents are skulking about in the kitchen, while Rachel is in her room on the phone with someone. The Losers are all shoved into the guest room that has since been turned into a playroom/office for Mickey and Richie’s mom, Kyla. 

“Yeah,” Richie says, covering Mickey with a blanket where he’s passed out on carpet, a stuffed animal under his head and in his arms. He turns back to the group, all sitting cross-legged on the carpet around Mickey. Eddie takes Richie’s hand and squeezes, swallowing hard. 

“That’s… that’s fucked up right?” Eddie says. “That’s  _ wrong _ , he shouldn’t be near there, am I right? C’mon guys, right?”

“Yeah,” Mike finally agrees, eyeing Bill. 

“But why?” Stan argues. “I don’t disagree, but why are we all having the same reaction to this? It doesn’t make sense, it’s not  _ logical _ .” He drops his head into his awaiting hands and stays like that. Beverly rubs a hand down his back soothingly, her other hand tightly grasped in one of Ben’s. 

“I always feel awful when I come back to Derry,” she admits. “I’m happy you three are getting out. I’d much rather visit in Portland than have to come back here.”

“But you guys did it, for the past two years,” Richie says. “For us?”

“Thanks, he means,” Eddie says. “But yeah. I’m glad we’re leaving too. By the time Mickey’s actual birthday rolls around, we’ll be settled in Portland and I’ll have started school. We’ll be done with this place. We already told Tom, Kyla, and Rachel that it’s easier if they visit us in Portland since we have so much going on. Rachel’s trying to move to Bangor, anyway. She’ll be out of here, too.” 

Everyone nods, quiet. They watch the baby sleep for a while until Eddie finds himself nodding off too. They have so much to do in the next few weeks. The first week of September is so close. It’s the end of August. He’s only been married for about a month. This week, he managed to get his last name changed with the college, which they said was good he did now so he wasn’t scrambling at graduation to have the right name on his degree. But Eddie is tired. And this whole thing with the sewers and his son has really shaken him. 

“Okay, bedtime,” Eddie says. “For us and the baby, it seems. We’ll see you all off in the morning one last time, alright? And by the time December rolls around for winter break, we’ll all be meeting in Portland instead.” 

“Christmas in Portland?” Mike says with a grin. “That sounds good to me.”

“Yeah, we can all camp out in your living room,” Stan says with a sigh. “Wonderful.”

“It’ll be fun,” Ben says. “Besides, we’ll all be together and that’s what counts, right?”

“Yeah,” Beverly says. “That’s what counts.”


	2. Ah, This One's Done So Where To Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie are moving on from Maine, but there's still something insidious sneaking around. As more time passes, they realize there are things they don't remember. And maybe, they don't _want_ to remember them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, next part up! I hope people are enjoying!

_ The Free Press, University of Southern Maine’s Student Run Newspaper _

Defining  _ Trans- _ Parent

By: Cori Gomez

_ May 13, 2000 _

Diversity isn’t just a word at the University of Southern Maine. Here, it’s a standard that we hold ourselves to. Case in point: Edward Tozier. A graduating senior, magna cum laude, in the business and econ departments with a minor in management. On the outside, Eddie looks like any ordinary Portlandian: dresses in neat sweaters, flannel-lined jeans in the cold season, and sturdy shoes for walking the cobblestoned streets. But underneath it all? Eddie is transgender. 

The term transgender is commonly used by individuals who are traversing the gender spectrum. In this case, Eddie is ftm - that is, female-to-male transgender. That’s not all. Eddie also identifies as a gay man, something that may have outsiders scratching their heads. But sexual attraction and gender identity are two separate entities, and once viewed as such, Eddie makes perfect sense. He is gay man that happened to be assigned female at birth. Eddie doesn’t let that stop him.

But wait, there’s  _ more _ ...

Eddie is also what the university dubs a nontraditional student. In 1996, when Eddie first started, he wasn’t the standard 18 year old most college students are. Eddie was 20 years old, now graduating at the age of 24 instead of the 22 of most students. Not too much of a difference but the age disparity exists because…

Eddie Tozier is not only  _ married _ but a father! At the age of 17, Eddie and his husband had their son, a wonderful little boy I got to meet that is turning 7 pretty soon. In this issue of The Free Press, I’m (CG) asking Eddie Tozier (ET) all about school, family, and most importantly, how transparent he can be in this school as a trans-parent!

* * *

CG: First, thank you so much for letting TFP interview you. There are many groups that are going to be interested in this!

ET: Not all for the best reasons, but yeah, I’m sure there are. 

**_Eddie is definitely direct. He doesn’t pull any punches. We’re in his apartment - provided by USM for his family. It’s in the heart of downtown Portland and we can see the harbor from the windows. On the carpet a few feet away from us, his 7 year old, Mickey, plays with LEGOS._ **

CG: Fair enough. Let’s get right into it. So, why USM?

ET: It was very far away from where my husband and I grew up.

CG: Which is?

ET: Derry, Maine. This tiny little town. It sorta looks like Belfast but not near the water. Closest we could get to that was Bangor, usually 45 minutes away but with traffic, we were on the road for at least an hour. 

CG: So you went from a small town to the city. Culture shock?

ET: A little bit. I’m… well, my husband would call me a germaphobe, but he’s never been one to pull his punches. 

CG: Are you?

ET: A germaphobe? … Yeah, maybe. So the city was overwhelming at first. I never put our son down walking the streets, never let him touch anything. And he was three when we moved so he wanted to touch  _ everything _ .

CG: I can imagine. Let me get it out of the way and ask: your son?

ET: Mickey is turning 7 in the fall. I know, we’re 24 with a 7 year old. Yes, I did have him at 17. I knew what this interview was about when I agreed to it. What do you want to know?

CG: Tell us about the difficulties you faced in such a small town being a pregnant man. 

**_He sighs, long and hard. I’m sure we’re going to get something interesting out of this._ **

ET: Well. My husband and I, we’ve known each other since we were kids, right? Then we dated as teenagers. And because I’m trans, well. Every high-stress 80s movie just played right out with us. I decided to keep the baby, and Richie, my husband, supported me. 

CG: But not everyone did.

ET: No, not everyone did. You see, my mother kicked me out. First I was trans. Then I was gay. Now I was having a baby. I guess she couldn’t handle it. 

CG: Can you tell us a little more about your relationship with her?

ET: I really don’t want to talk about my mother, if it’s all the same to you.

CG: That’s fair. We’ll move on. How did the town react?

ET: I think they had mostly gotten used to the trans thing? I came out as a kid, so most people pretended it was always like that or else, avoided me. Some people didn’t care. When I got pregnant, it took a while for others to get what was happening. I didn’t get super big. There were plenty of people who ignored me or wouldn’t serve me, so I ended up doing a lot of things at night, and always with a friend for safety. My sister-in-law would get drifts of people planning to do something nasty where she worked nights as a waitress at one of the diners, so she let my mother-in-law know. She’s a lawyer. She put an end to most of it. 

CG: Wow. I can’t even imagine the stress that put you under. Being so young and already stigmatized just to have it happen all over again about something else. How did you cope?

ET: My husband was amazing. We also had a group of friends that stood by us through the whole thing. We’re all really close. Two of them are even Mickey’s godparents, and another two were our witnesses at our wedding, 

CG: Yeah, how did you two end up getting married? Legally, you said, too. 

**_He smiles very wide. It’s a good look on his until-now serious face._ **

ET: Well, my birth certificate still says F on it. And we’re good friends of the woman at the notary. So technically, it is legal. Just because I don’t identify with my birth certificate doesn’t mean I can’t still use it to get married. At that point, it would have been at the discretion of the notary, but she loved us. 

CG: You played the system!

ET: Yes, we played the system. I think we did it very well, too. 

CG: I agree. So how long  _ have _ you been married then?

ET: Four years. 

CG: So you got married  _ after _ you had Mickey. 

ET: Yes. The day I found out I had been accepted into USM, my husband proposed to me. We were 20. 

CG: You got married straight away.

ET: We did. I’d been with him for seven years at that point. 

CG: Wow. That’s longer than my parents were together when they got married. 

ET: I have a feeling that if we were a straight, cis couple, this would all be very cutesy. 

CG: But you’re not. 

ET: No, we most definitely are not. 

CG: How has that been on campus?

ET: Not many people know this about me on campus, so the people who find out through this article and interview are going to be very surprised. 

CG: What about in the city?

ET: We get looks sometimes, mostly for being gay. One older woman commented that my wife must be very trusting of me if she let me take our son out. I told her my husband trusted me plenty and that if anything, it was me trusting  _ him _ with our son in the streets. Both of them have awful eyesight.

CG: You are a spitfire! I would never have guessed. 

ET: I know. I  _ am _ straightlaced, don’t get me wrong, but when it comes to my family, I don’t let  _ anyone _ say anything about them. 

CG: Family’s important to you, then. How did you feel when USM offered you a full ride and living quarters for you all?

ET: I was so grateful, and I’m not just saying that because the people who made that decision are going to be seeing this. I thought I was going to pass out. My husband was able to find a job that he could work when I didn’t have class. We switched off on watching our son until he could go to preschool. The school system here has been great too. 

CG: That’s wonderful to hear! So, what  _ does _ your husband do for a living?

**_Now, Eddie rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling. It looks like he’s fighting a smile._ **

ET: My husband is a radio personality. He’s Richie T - for Torzier - on Portland’s Finest, 105.2 FM. His show comes on at 10PM every night of the week. It’s… well, he says comedy but let’s be realistic. If you’re easily offended, I don’t encourage you to listen. But if you like raunchy humor, give it a go. 

CG: Richie T! Your husband is Richie T? That’s so cool - I think he’s  _ hilarious _ . 

ET: Oh no. He’s going to read this when it comes out and walk around the apartment talking about it all day. 

CG: Should I strike it from the article?

ET: Nah, leave it in there. Someone has to commend him. 

CG: So what’s in store for you two after you graduate next week?

ET: I have a job as a risk analyst all lined up for me in New York City. Richie has a radio station down there that’s a fan of his and would love to have him on. So, yeah. We’re leaving New England and hitting the Mid-Atlantic region. Close enough for his parents to visit us, and most of our friends have moved out that way anyway. 

CG: That’s exciting. Why New York?

ET: Bigger city. More opportunity. More anonymity, for my purposes anyway. And I hear that Greenwich Village is something out of the queer person’s fairytale book. 

CG: I’ve been. It really is. My girlfriend and I were floored to see so many couples just walking around hand-in-hand. 

ET: Just hearing you  _ say _ that is healing my soul. 

**_At this point, Mickey (MT) comes up to his father and asks to sit in his lap. He gives me a very direct look. To be honest, only his eyes are reminiscent of Eddie._ **

CG: Hey buddy, I’m Cori. What’s your name?

ET: It’s okay. Introduce yourself. 

MT: Macaulay Iowan Tozier. 

ET: But what do daddy and papa call you?

MT: Mickey. 

CG: It’s nice to meet you Mickey. 

MT: You can call me Macaulay. 

**_While Eddie looks a bit horrified, all I can do is laugh. This little guy has his own personality already!_ **

CG: Alright, Macaulay then. 

ET: Mickey, that’s not very nice. 

MT: But I don’t know her like that yet. 

CG: Fair enough. Is there anything you want to say to your - I’m sorry are you daddy or papa?

ET: I’m daddy. Richie is papa. 

CG: Is there anything you want to say to your daddy’s school?

MT: Hmm. Daddy’s really smart and works really hard so you should all be nice to him. Is that okay?

CG: That’s very okay. I’ll make sure everyone knows.

ET: That was really sweet of you buddy. Why don’t you go build me something? Like, a bridge.

MT: Or a skyscraper! You said our new house in New York is gonna be near a skyscraper!

ET: That’s right, you can see the skyscrapers from our new apartment. 

MT: Cool. 

**_He shimmies off his dad’s lap and runs back to his blocks to create what he thinks the skyscraper will be like. Eddie smiles at him as he watches him go._ **

ET: He’s a good kid. Really sweet. A little mouthy, as you saw. Sorry about that. 

CG: No, no! That was awesome, actually. Can I keep that little segment in?

ET: Sure. At least he didn’t swear this time. My husband and I have interesting language, so to speak. Sometimes, we forget he can hear us. The apartment isn’t  _ that _ big. 

CG: To get back on topic, it’s amazing that they offered this to you. I didn’t find any resources saying the university had done this in the past. 

ET: They saw an opportunity and took it. Universities like to have different people and I am very different. They could tell that I wasn’t going anywhere without my family, so they gave me an offer I would be literally stupid to refuse. I appreciate it. I’ve had some good help from staff and faculty along the way. They helped where they could. No, it wasn’t perfect, but it also wasn’t bad enough for me to bad mouth anyone so publicly, to be honest. I’ve been spoiled here. I know the real world is judging me for a myriad of things, but as long as my family stays safe, I don’t much care. 

CG: You’ve never had really bad experiences on campus?

ET: Really bad? No. No one’s attacked or threatened me, in any manner, student, staff or faculty alike. Bad? Maybe. I’ve had people refuse to work with me in class, I’ve had professors who weren’t as warm as they could have been. No one’s damaged my property and people who have an issue with me mostly kept out of the way. But those were few and far in-between as I don’t just advertise my gay, trans-parent status to everyone. Some people assume and can go on their merry way straight to hell and - wait, can I say that?

CG: I think so. I’ll make sure my editor checks it.

ET: Great. Anyway, I pass as a cisgender man relatively well. Hormone blockers as a kid can do that. I’ve been lucky. I’m not super vocal in general, not because I’m not proud, but because I’m just very private. My husband is the loud one, though he’s also private when it comes to us. Safety and our child are our main reasons. 

CG: I know when I approached you about doing this interview, you said you weren’t going to answer any political questions, but how about this: where do you see this country going in the next decade? Two decades? 

ET: I can tell you what I hope happens. I hope by the time I’m forty, my son isn’t the only child to have been raised so publicly by a same-sex couple. I hope by the time I’m forty, I can easily have my gender marker changed and my husband and I can get married with my true gender on the license. I hope by the time I’m forty I’m unafraid to share that I carried our son for nine months. I hope by the time I’m forty I’m less afraid to be out to people about the many aspects of my life. I hope by the time I’m forty, my husband is still around and not strangled to death by me because he pissed me off, for the final time. 

**_We both have a good laugh at that._ ** **_After I thanked Eddie, I left his apartment and was just about to leave the building’s front door when I ran into his husband. I recognized him from the many photos of him inside of the apartment and asked if I could get a few words from him about his husband._ **

RT (Richie Tozier): A  _ few _ words? That’s it? Didn’t Eds tell you all I do is talk? Nah, I’m kidding. Look, my Eddie is amazing. He’s smart. He’s a good dad and a great husband. But most importantly, he’s brave. He’s really brave. Originally, I told him not to do this interview, because I was afraid someone might lash out at us. But he pointed out that no one knows where we live now and that in the next two weeks, we’re leaving the city, anyway. It was really important to him to do this and he’s just… so much braver than I am. I’m so proud of him. 

**_He actually has tears in his eyes. I’m floored by the love that this man has for his husband._ **

RT: I’m privileged to be married to him. I am delighted to have a child with him - who, by the way looks  _ exactly _ like me, isn’t that unfair? I had the easy job but it looks like I have all the credit. 

CG: Your son does really look like you. 

RT: But anyway. Eddie. Eds. Eduardo. The love of my life since I was 6 - I’ll get into that some other time. Do you listen to my show?

CG: I do, actually! 

RT: Great so you’ll regularly hear about my undying love for my spouse. He’s great. People should respect him and look up to him - and I’m sure they already do. He’s my best friend and I would do anything for him. Oh and anything mean he said about me is an absolute  _ lie _ . 

**_With permission from The Free Press editor and board, I will say this: definitely go listen to Richie T. over on Portland’s Finest at 105.2 FM at 10PM every night, and get a good laugh in before you go to sleep!_ **

* * *

“Hey, this is actually really good. I’m in here too!”

“I told you that,” Eddie says stacking another box. “Also, did you really not read that when it came out?”

“I didn’t go to your school, babe.”

“I brought a copy home,” Eddie responds, unimpressed. He’s standing in the middle of their old apartment, stacking boxes. Tomorrow, Ben and Bill are coming up to help them load up into a moving truck and they’re making their long drive to New York City. It’ll take around 10 hours with traffic and restroom breaks added in. But Eddie is excited. He’s loved Portland, but he’s ready to leave Maine, to leave New England, and really start their lives. 

“Okay, how about we leave the box rearranging for tonight or tomorrow morning and we go do something with the kiddo for our last day in Portland? Hmm? Maybe we go down to the harbor, maybe we - oh! We should go see that cryptid museum by Thompson Point! It’s by the water too, we can take the kid, go make a day of it. Say goodbye to the city the right way.”

Eddie has to admit, it sounds good. And he really doesn’t want to look at another box. He knows everything is labeled correctly. He knows it’s as good as it’s going to get in terms of stacking. Tomorrow, Ben and Mike will help them haul everything up to their apartment while Beverly and Bill make sure that Mickey isn’t going to run off down the street with something. Mickey’s been pretty excited about leaving Portland, even though it’s all he really remembers. They haven’t been back to Derry since he started school, Tom and Kyla visiting whenever it struck their fancy. They have no desire to go back. 

And anyway, it’s not like Eddie can really remember it much. 

“Okay, yeah, fine. Now we have to find our son in this stack of boxes,” Eddie says, raising his voice a bit. They hear a giggle from behind a pretty tall stack and share a smile. Richie goes around one way while Eddie goes around the other, surrounding Mickey. With nowhere to go, he can either stay put or take his chances with whoever he decides is the weakest dad. 

It’s Richie. 

“Haha! You thought so, didn’t you, punk?” Richie says, still managing to catch Mickey and tickling him within an inch of his life. Eddie joins in the fun, finally ‘rescuing’ his son from his husband. He covers Mickey’s face in kisses and holds him close, letting out a little sigh of contentment. Deciding to be a parent? Best decision of his teen life. He looks at Richie who’s grinning like a loon at their son and sticking his tongue out at him. Getting married to that idiot? Best decision of his young adult life. 

“Mickey, you wanna go see a monster museum?” Richie asks. Mickey’s eyes go wide. 

“We have a monster museum?” he asks, squirming out of Eddie’s arms. Eddie lets him down and feels warm inside when Mickey leans against his side and holds his hand. 

“Yeah. They’re called cryptids. It’s weird local monsters that people think they see. And people pass it down from year to year. Sometimes they get  _ pictures _ of the thing they think they see!” Richie says, kneeling to be at faceheight with Mickey. 

“Daddy, can we go?” Mickey asks, looking up at Eddie. 

“Hey!” Richie squawks. “Why do you always ask your dad after I say we should go somewhere?”

“Cos Daddy’s good at knowing when something is safe or good to go to,” Mickey says, sticking his tongue out at him. And anyways, Richie thinks, he does usually tell Mickey to ask his dad if he wants to go somewhere. Eddie usually has the last say, which Richie thinks is fair since Eddie carried him all that time. He deserves final-say status. 

“Yes, we can go,” Eddie says, cutting into their little spat. “Go put your sneakers on, baby. We’ll be waiting for you.” Mickey runs off to where he’s got a little tote of his things to wear and put on his feet in the week up to their big move, when most of his clothes are already packed away in some corner of the apartment. In the stillness left by him, Eddie leans against Richie and looks around the space. 

It’s older, with little archways between the rooms and high ceilings. The walls are a muted, hunter green or a greyish purple. All the floors are hardwood, save for the one in the living room which is covered in carpet. There are windows in most of the rooms - Eddie is so thankful they got an apartment in the corner of the brownstone building. It’s just high enough that you can see the harbor, but not too high that it was a pain to carry a tired or cranky toddler up the stairs. While they’re apartment in New York is bigger and a bit more modern, he  _ is _ going to miss this one. Their son grew up here. He’s still got plenty of growing to do, but he did learn to do so much here and Portland really wasn’t that bad to be in. 

“I’ll miss it a bit,” Eddie admits. 

“Yeah,” Richie muses. “Me too.”

“Me, three!” Mickey screeches, running into their legs. He looks up, a lock of hair falling into his glasses, his droopy, brown eyes wide behind the magnified lenses. “Can we go see the cryptonics now?”

“Cryptids,” Eddie corrects with a laugh. “And yes, we can go see them now.”

* * *

Mickey gets a kick out of the museum. They’re the only ones there that afternoon, and it’s a pretty menial charge - $10 for each of them. It’s small too, just two little floors that they can keep track of Mickey in, make sure he doesn’t touch anything that could break. It  _ is _ interesting though, all the stories people have. Eddie watches the whole video playing on a little screen by the curator and owner of the museum. He thinks its a bit fantastical, but it is fun. Something tugs in his memory, that maybe things are too fantastical, but he shrugs it off and assumes it’s because he has a child under ten. 

“Yo, Eds, Derry is on the cryptid map!” Richie says. Mickey is busy looking at a glass display of the Jersey Devil and some kind of enlarged jaguar running around the woods. Eddie walks over and sees that, sure enough, on the map of Cryptids of America, Derry is a bright dot in Maine. He looks at the panel that corresponds with Derry’s number and sees  _ Shokopiwah Tribe Crab _ .

“A giant… crab? Where would Derry keep a giant crab?” Eddie says. 

“With a face that takes on your greatest fears!” Richie says with a laugh, still reading the description. “Imagine yours. Just a huge germ sitting on a crab body.”

“Yeah, and what would you have? A clown face on a crab body?” Eddie snaps back. But he stops. Feels discomfort. Richie’s face is drawn. 

“That’s fucked up,” Richie says gruffly. He doesn’t know why, but Eddie’s words have really disturbed him. 

“I - sorry, babe,” Eddie mutters. He hadn’t meant for it to get at Richie like this. 

“I, no it’s okay, I don’t know why that bothered me. This place is giving me the creeps now, though. Let’s go get lunch or something.” He pauses. “Where’s our son?”

They find Mickey on the second floor, dedicated to Mothman, Yetis, and of course, Bigfoot and Sasquatch. There’s a stuffed model of Bigfoot in the back corner that’s four times Mickey’s height. He begs them for a photo in front of it. 

“Geez,” Richie says with a grin, his earlier mood dissipating. “Okay, okay. Get in there.” They always carry a disposable camera with them for moments like this. Mickey stands right at the base of the model and grins as wide as possible, absolutely delighted. Richie snaps a few of him alone and then asks the lone, bored worker at the front desk to take one of the three of them in front of it. Eddie thanks her and hopes her sour look is at the weirdness of their request and not that they’re two men with a child. 

“Let’s go get some lunch!” Richie howls on the way out. “Then we can go for a walk and see the boats.”

“Yeah, boats!” Mickey says. He’d asked them to buy him a bigfoot patch before they left, and since neither of them knew when they’d be back to Maine, never mind Portland, and Mickey never really ever asked for anything, they had complied. 

They get lunch at Mickey’s favorite cafe in town and then head toward the water where all the bigger tug and fishing boats and barges were. Mickey runs ahead of them with his ice cream cone, looking so much like Richie at that age that Eddie is starting to get nostalgic. They can see him up ahead, so they link arms and stroll at a leisurely pace behind him. 

“Remember us at that age?” Eddie says, eyes firmly on Mickey. No way in hell he’s going to risk taking his eyes off his son and have him go over the edge of one of the boardwalks. 

“Yeah. We used to get into so much trouble, huh?” Richie says, but there’s something hesitant in his voice. Eddie looks over at him. “What?”

“Why do you sound unsure?”

“Just… can’t remember details, that’s all,” Richie says. “It was like, almost two decades ago, okay?” But it bothers him. Why can’t he remember all that well? He recognizes that Mickey looks a lot like him when he was a kid, but he can’t remember if he and Eddie and the others had gotten into wild shenanigans. Is this old age?

“You’re being weird today,” Eddie decides, not wanting to delve deeper into it. Because he can’t remember that clearly either. 

“Excuse you, I’m  _ always _ this weird,” Richie snorts. Eddie shakes his head, looks forward again, expecting to see their little blackhole of curls running toward them since he’s  _ had  _ to have reached the end of the boardwalk by now but… 

“Where’s Mickey?” Eddie says. He’d had his eyes off of him for maybe 15 seconds, if that. Richie’s head snaps forward and Eddie feels it again, that dry-mouth, bile-stomach, awful hot tug through his whole body. “Mickey!” he yells, pulling away from Richie. He runs to the side of the boardwalk, looking for thrashing water, for bubbles. Holy shit, what if their baby drowned? How could he have looked away for even a second? How had Richie not seen Mickey move away?

“Mickey!” Richie yells, somewhere down the dockside. Richie’s mind is going a mile a minute. Usually, he’s not one to jump to the worst conclusion, but there are boats going in and out, and if their kid fell in and got caught in the propellers… Richie feels sick. “Mickey!”

And then suddenly, he’s right there, wandering up from the small slice of beach by the docks, ice cream in one hand, a bright red balloon in the other. His little face is startled when both his parents converge on him, hugging him, trying to calmly ask where he was and why he had gone. Eddie notices the balloon first and it chills him to his core. He doesn’t know why. It’s just a balloon. 

“I just went to go see the balloon man,” Mickey says. Richie looks around them, up and down the street, down the length of the docks, but there’s no balloon man in sight. Maybe some creep had tried to lure Mickey away with balloons, but Mickey had heard them calling and left, leaving the man to run before he was caught? 

“Hey, hey asshole!” Richie yells, standing up and projecting to the area in general. “Whoever you are, you sick fuck, stay the  _ fuck _ away from our kid! You hear me? I’ll kill you!” He’s so angry. Who the fuck thought they could screw with them like that? 

“Why is Papa so mad?” Mickey asks, pressed to Eddie’s chest. 

“He’s not mad at you, baby,” Eddie assures him. “Just at whoever you were talking to. You can’t talk to strangers, remember?” 

“But he said he was my friend!” Mickey says. Eddie really wants that balloon to pop. 

“Had you ever met him before?” Eddie points out. “You have to meet someone before to not be strang-”

“Yeah!” Mickey says and Eddie’s eyes widen. Has someone been stalking them? How had his son seen this man before? 

“What?” Richie says, turning around. “When did-” He sees the balloon. He wants to run away. 

“I don’t remember, but I remember him!” Mickey says. 

“Mickey, baby, where were you?” Eddie says, standing up. His knees hurt but he needs to know where his son had been that minute he was gone. 

Mickey points to the beachy area. “I’ll show you.” Richie and Eddie follow him down the sand to just under the docks. There’s a large storm drain that empties out into the water. The deeper it goes, the darker it gets. It gurgles and the gurgles echo dully against the sides of the drain. There’s an awful stink of rotting seaweed and dead fish, of boat fuel and rusted metal. 

“How did you get down here?” Richie asks. Mickey is about to take a step into it, but Richie tugs him back by the hand and then picks him up, perching Mickey on his hip. “Maybe you just stay with Papa, baby.”

“It called me,” Mickey says, eating his ice cream, tugging the string of his balloon. 

“It?” Eddie says. He feels gross at the thought. “I thought you said there was a balloon  _ man _ ?”

But Mickey shrugs, still focused on his ice cream. “I dunno. I didn’t see. I heard my name and I thought it was you, Daddy. So I came over and there was a balloon coming over to me. Then the voice said it was for me!” He looks up grinning, chocolate ice cream smeared across his mouth. His parents look at him and then the storm drain in horror. “I just thought it was a man because it was tall.”

“I thought you said you didn’t see whoever it was?” Eddie asks, starting to back out of the storm drain. Richie follows. Both men keep their eyes on the darkness. 

“I didn’t,” Mickey says. “But I saw glowy eyes. And they were way high up.” 

It’s enough to make Eddie take Richie’s hand, turn tail, and run. In the scramble, Mickey lets go of his balloon. When Eddie looks back, there’s no sign of it floating up into the bright blue sky of the Portland afternoon. 

“My balloon!” Mickey calls in disappointment, his little, sticky hands reaching up to the sky, still in Richie’s arms. 

“That’s okay, Mick,” Richie says, catching his breath once they’re all on the boardwalk again. “We’ll get you another one.”

“But that balloon was gonna bring me home!” Mickey says with a sigh. He finishes his ice cream, the only sounds from the group coming from his munching of the cone. 

“What do you mean home?” Eddie asks. It has to be at least 90 degrees out, but he’s shivering. He can’t feel his toes. Richie has gone pale. “Me and Papa know the way back home, silly. You don’t need a balloon to show you.” That’s not what he means and Eddie knows it, but he’s hoping he’s wrong. 

“Not in Por’land!” Mickey says. “Before this. In Derry.”

“What the fuck?” Richie swears. He’s never, ever wanted to put his son down and get away from him like he does for a split second. He knows that second will haunt him for some time. But the things Mickey is saying… Mickey doesn’t even  _ remember _ Derry. Before today, Richie is pretty sure that Mickey had forgotten Derry existed. 

“Papa?” Mickey says. He pats Richie’s face with his cold, sticky hands. 

“Where did you hear about Derry?” Eddie asks. His voice is a whisper. What the fuck is this, he wonders? What the fuck is going on? The storm drain, the balloon, this immense fear coming from the both of them.  _ What _ is going on?

“When I got my balloon?” Mickey answers. “Am I in trouble? I really thought it was you, Daddy.”

“No, you’re not in trouble baby,” Richie says, hugging Mickey to his chest. He’s shaking. He wants to go home. This isn’t right, none of this is right. “Right?” he asks Eddie, just checking. 

“Right, you’re not in trouble. But I think me and Papa are a little shaken right now, so we’re gonna head home,” Eddie says. He starts leading them to the car. 

“Oh, can we watch a movie?” Mickey asks, incident already forgotten. Eddie and Richie wish it was that easy for them. 

“Any movie you want,” Eddie sighs. “Let’s just go home.”

They can’t leave Portland fast enough.

* * *

“That’s the last box,” Eddie says, wiping his hands off. He’s standing in the middle of their new apartment in Queens. They both work on Manhattan, so they’ll have to either drive in or take the subway, but for the most part, their location is convenient. Mickey’s school is down the street to the apartment they live in and there’s a children’s community group for their neighborhood that Eddie wants to check out with Mickey. At some point, he’s sure they’ll be able to afford a better place, but for now, the apartment suits their needs. 

Mickey is in his room right now, organizing his stuffed animals the exact way he wants them to be. Mike is heading back to Florida, having met them up in New York to visit and help them unload. Ben and Beverly are heading back to their apartment in Brooklyn. Those two are starting their own small businesses and Eddie is really excited for them. Bill is heading back to the place he’s renting out in Westchester. He claims he needs the quiet to write and start his first real novel. Richie is just coming in from walking Bill out. 

“Nice. Look at my strong man go,” Richie says. He pulls Eddie against him by his belt loops and presses kiss after kiss to his mouth. “Now all we have to do is actually unpack all of this shit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. He feels better, being away from the northeast. A part of him is guilty about it, because that’s where he was raised, where he was born. But another part of him is giddy with excitement. They got out. They got out of the shithole they grew up in. They’re  _ free _ . 

“This is gonna be good, right Rich?” Eddie says. He smiles up at Richie and Richie feels his heart in his throat. All the weird shit that has happened thus far aside, moving to New York has been a wonderful experience. 

“Yeah,” Richie murmurs against Eddie’s hair. He kisses Eddie there too. “This is gonna be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things as a New Englander writing about New England: 
> 
> 1) The National Cryptid Museum exists. I don’t know if it did back in 2000, but it does now. It is in South Portland, ME. Go check it out - but after the social distancing thing is over and we have a handle on COVID-19.
> 
> 2) The University of Southern Maine’s newspaper is actually called The Free Press. Give them a look. 
> 
> 3) I have no idea if there’s actually a radio show/station on the FM line 105.2 in Portland. I just made that shit up. 


	3. This Is How It's Always Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie decide to take a big step in their careers and lives. Mickey gets older. Things, for now, are going pretty well. 
> 
> Or, they forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. Sorry this took forever. My family got affected by COVID-19. Even with states opening back up, it's so dangerous out there. Our country isn't handling this well and I am scared. I've also been going through some rough mental health shit that keeps hitting me in waves. So, between all of that, this fell to the wayside. 
> 
> Anyway, this is more fluffy/them growing into the people with see in the 2019 film and how I envision that going! Disclaimer that I don't know how the corporate business world works, only know a little about starting your own business, and I definitely don't know how being discovered or getting your own stint as a comedian with companies who run that works. Please don't try to be famous by following any of these moves, thanks.

_ 6 Years Later - 2006 _

“We need to talk!” they both say in the hallway to their apartment. At the same time. Eddie rolls his eyes. It’s a Friday, in the middle of the afternoon. Technically, they both should be at work, but they’d run into each other in the hall heading back home and, well…

“Let me guess,” Richie says with that sly smile. Eddie’s already rolling his eyes. “You’re pregnant again.”

“You’re really not as funny as you think you are,” Eddie groans, letting them into their apartment. In the years since they’d moved to New York City, they’d moved a little closer to Manhattan. Now, they live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn right by the bridge. Mickey loves going for walks by the water or taking one of the ferries to Pier 11 or Pier 6. There’s a candy shop near Greenwich Village that Richie takes him to whenever he reaches some kind of accomplishment, academic, social, or otherwise. 

Speaking of, Mickey will be in school for a few hours still before they head off to pick him up. But first, they both have news. 

“Okay, is it serious news?” Eddie asks, getting apprehensive. Because his  _ is _ serious news. He sets his things down on the kitchen table and takes a seat. Richie throws his bag on the floor and sits across from him.

“Yes,” Richie responds, sobering up. But he’s buzzing underneath it all. He’s so excited, he just wants to  _ tell _ Eddie. But Eddie looks a little worried. 

“Really? Fuck. Okay. We both say it on the count of three, how about that?” Eddie says. He hopes it’s  _ good _ serious news.  _ His _ news is … well. Not  _ bad _ per se. Just. Difficult. Challenging? Whatever. 

“Deal,” Richie says. They’ve been telling each other news like this since they were kids. “One.” He reaches over and takes Eddie’s hands in his.

“Two,” Eddie counts, squeezing Richie’s fingers.

“Three!” they say together. When Eddie says, “I want to quit my job,” Richie says, “I’m getting a promotion.” They sit and stare at each other for a few seconds in appreciative shock. 

“Promotion?” Eddie blurts, his heart racing. What’s a promotion for a radio comedian look like?

“You wanna quit, babe?” Richie says, forehead crumpling. “What’s going on? Can we just talk about that first, because my news is a bit lighter than yours. No offense.”

“Nothing’s going on, Rich,” Eddie admits. It’s true. He’s the manager for his department. He’s analyzing risks. It’s just that he’s… “I’m bored,” Eddie admits. Richie nods in understanding; he’s been trying to tell Eddie risk analysis is boring as fuck for  _ years _ but no one listens to him. “I was thinking, you know how me and Suzie from the apartment below us hang out on the weekends at the car garage her wife, Rita, runs?”

“You wanna be a… mechanic?” Richie asks, unsure. He does  _ love _ when Eddie comes back up from the garage on the weekends, face smudged with oil, hands filthy, with Eddie just wanting to wash it all off as fast as possible. But if Mickey is at a friends or hanging out down the hall with one of his buddies in the apartment complex, Richie will just press Eddie against the kitchen table and attempt to get into his pants fast enough that Eddie won’t realize he’s still dirty. They usually get dirtier anyway; might as well wash off  _ all _ the filth all at once. 

“No, dumbass. I was thinking, I could run a car service. I got my degree in business and management. I know about cars, kind of. New York is full of high profiles. They could use a service more reliable than a taxi.” Eddie takes his hands back and stands, goes to his office and gets the folder of research he’s been keeping. “Look,” he says, sitting back down. “I’ve been looking into it. These are all the car service companies in the city. Suzie thinks she can talk her wife into joining up. She’d run the fleet, I’d run the service. Boost her clientele  _ and _ we’d have a garage to start from. I can pull from our savings account or take a loan out to get our first few cars. We can buy them gently used and Rita will refurbish them. We’ll start there. I can run the business end out of the apartment for right now.” 

Eddie has put so much thought into this the last few months. He had thought,  _ just look into it and see where it takes you _ , and it had taken him  _ here _ . He wants to do this so badly, but he needs Richie’s blessing and support to even start. Also his permission to use their joint savings account, or for him to be a cosigner for the loan. Besides, this is his  _ husband _ . He wants to share this with him. It’ll be Richie’s name on the business too, after all. 

“Wow,” Richie says, sitting back, brow scrunched as he thinks. “You’ve put a lot of serious thought into this, huh?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, trying not to snap or be impatient. 

“I bet you already crunched all the numbers,” Richie says with a grin. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says, looking away. He has. Damn Richie. 

“And I also bet that you’ve run things enough that you know how to recover if it doesn’t work out, at least financially,” Richie continues. He  _ knows _ Eddie, even if Eddie says  _ maybe _ he knows Eddie means  _ of course I have, three times, and then again just to be sure _ . He also knows Eddie can pull this off if Richie encourages him. So. Richie is going to encourage him. “Yeah, go for it. I’m right here for whatever you need. Use the joint savings, apply for loans. I’ll sign on with you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says, a smile blossoming across his face. Richie thinks it was worth it just to see that look. 

“Of course, you nerd. You got this. I can even help you and Suz convince Rita. She  _ loves _ my pumpkin bread. And it’s that season,” Richie says. 

“You’re going to bribe a hardcore, butch lesbian with pumpkin bread?” Eddie asks, not exactly arguing but surprised that this is Richie’s strategy. 

“Uh, yeah? Duh. The way into  _ any _ queer person’s heart is through their stomach, let’s be real.”

“I love you,” Eddie says, voice disbelieving. Maybe a bit disbelieving that he’s in love with this idiot as much as he is. But just two months ago, they’d celebrated their 10th wedding anniversary, so he figures he shouldn’t be too surprised. “Okay, you were talking about a promotion. What, do they want you to run the station or something?” Eddie jokes. 

Richie clams up, suddenly unable to share. He’s excited, but he has some choices to make and  _ he _ needs  _ Eddie _ to be okay with them. Eddie frowns at the look on Richie’s face. He reaches out, taking Richie’s hands into his own. He brushes a thumb over Richie’s knuckles, going white with how hard he’s clenching his hands into fists. 

“Richie, relax. What’s up? Whatever kind of promotion, a promotion is a good thing,” Eddie says. “Talk to me.”

“It’s not with the station,” Richie finally says. Eddie frowns, confused. 

“Then… who is it with?”

“A broadcasting company got in touch with me through the station’s agent. They’re offering me a contract with them, to have a television comedy special on their station. They’ll promote me leading up to it. They’ll let me write my own jokes, use my own material. And if we hit a certain rating, they want to take me on full time. Do shows around the country. Specials, guest appearances. That sort of stuff. They heard my show and they loved it, and then someone saw me at the comedy club I show at sometimes, you know the one?”

Eddie is speechless. It may have taken a little over a decade, but Richie’s dreams are slowly being realized. And 30 isn’t old either. 

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie finally breathes. “I’m over here, nagging about a dumb project and you have a real opportunity!”

“It’s not a dumb project, Eds,” Richie says, ignoring the pinch to the palm he gets for it. “If that’s your new dream, then we’re gonna go for it. But this, this is mine and I…” He shakes his head. “I’m not signing anything until I know you’re okay with this.

“You didn’t say  _ yes _ yet?” Eddie asks, appalled. “What if they rescind?”

“They won’t,” Richie soothes, smiling. “They told me to take some time to think, to talk to my family. I’ll be traveling a bit if it all works out. Be gone weekends, a lot of the time. But I’ll be working with their studio on Manhattan - no relocation necessary.” 

“I think it’s a great opportunity and you should do it,” Eddie says immediately. Because it  _ is _ a great opportunity. And Richie should have said  _ yes _ already. But he gets it. He thinks that maybe he should just table his idea for now until they’re sure about Richie’s future, and he says so. “Look, I’ll just sit on the car service for now, okay? That way, we have a steady income in case things don’t work out-”

“Absolutely not,” Richie says, cutting him off. 

“Dude, let me speak!”

“No! No sacrificing, not for me. The only one we can do that for is Mickey, okay? Quit your job when the plans are rolling well for the service and devote yourself to that. I just needed your okay and your support for this. There’s no need to keep giving up your dreams, man,” Richie says. He leans forward and kisses Eddie’s surprised and slack mouth. “I love you. I want you to be happy. And besides. The signing bonus for this TV special and the promotion will cover us for like, a year.”

_ “What?” _ Eddie says. Richie gives him the number of his signing bonus and while Richie  _ had _ been exaggerating, he hadn’t been exaggerating by much. “Fuck me.”

“I can definitely do that,” Richie says with a lewd lick of his lips. He bites the lower one and worries it with the porcelain of his teeth. “Mickey doesn’t get out of school for at least another hour and a half.”

* * *

Afterward, they’re laying in bed, wrapped in sheets and each other. The room is a mess of clothes and shoes. Eddie really has to bug Richie into cleaning up a bit. 

“We’re gonna have to break the news to Mickey,” Eddie says. He’s laying on Richie’s chest and Richie is tracing patterns up and down the top-surgery scars under Eddie’s nipples. He’d gotten that done last year and it had been another amazing decision in his life. He felt so  _ good _ . 

“Yeah,” Richie says. 

“That’s a lot for a thirteen year old to take in.” 

“Eh, he’ll be alright. He’s in 7th grade, man. We handled  _ a lot _ when we were thirteen and in 7th grade.” Richie knows it’s true. He just doesn’t know how he knows it’s true. He doesn’t remember much of significance happening when he was 13, but then again, he’s 30 now. It’s been 17 years, what the hell does he know?

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, face going sour. “We did, didn’t we?” He ignores the haze in his memory. “Whatever. We should leave now to get him, take the J over to the school district. I heard on the radio that there’s been some breakdowns on the Z and it’s been holding the J up. He might panic if we’re late because we got caught in that.”

“He’s not going to panic,” Richie sighs, but he does let Eddie get up and get dressed. He follows afterward, taking his time putting his clothes back on. Eddie eventually rushes them out of the apartment and to the station down their street. They make it just in time for the middle school to let out their students and wave Mickey down to where they’re standing across the street. Eddie winces when Mickey runs across the intersection with barely a glance to either side. But he’s grinning when Mickey barrels into him and hugs his waist. 

“You’re both here!” he says, looking up at Eddie with a grin. Richie ruffles his hair and laughs at the squawk of indignation he gets for his troubles. “Pops!”

“Surprise!” Richie says. “C’mon. Let’s go get lunch. Me and your Dad have some stuff to tell you.” Mickey slows his stride, falling behind them. Eddie and Richie turn. “Bud?”

“Is… is everything okay?” Mickey asks. He plays with his Pokemon backpack straps. “Are  _ you guys _ okay?”

“We're not getting a divorce,” Eddie assures him, trying not to be offended. They’d just done ten years together; why would their son automatically assume something awful was going on?

“Oh, cool,” Mickey sighs in relief. He runs up and walks between them. “Just checking.”

“Worrywart,” Richie teases. “Just like your Dad.”

“Well I dunno!” Mickey exclaims. “You guys are  _ never _ home at the same time, especially on Fridays! That’s suspicious!”

“Suspicious?” Eddie asks, wrapping an arm around Mickey’s thin shoulders. 

“Yeah! Like you’re gonna tell me bad news.”

“Well, we  _ are _ gonna tell you news. But it’s not bad. Just a lot.”

“A lot a lot?” Mickey asks. 

“Kinda,” Richie admits. Mickey mulls that over as they take the subway to his favorite restaurant near Battery Park. It’s a little Japanese place, tucked out of the way of construction. They get their usual orders and head upstairs to eat. At this time of the afternoon, they’re the only ones up there. 

“Okay, lay it on me,” Mickey says after finishing his miso soup. He starts in on his sushi and rice. “While I still have food left in front of me to comfort eat.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Eddie says, eating his katsudon. 

“Hypocrite,” Richie replies easily, expecting the elbow to his side. 

“Your pops got a promotion,” Eddie starts with. Mickey’s eyes widen and he looks at Richie, who’s grinning widely and winks at him. 

“Seriously?” Mickey asks. “So cool! What are you gonna do now?"

“I’m gonna be on someone’s show doing stand-up,” Richie says. He steals one of Mickey’s sushi rolls, and Mickey doesn’t even whine about it. “If enough people like it, they’ll start booking shows.”

“Like, professionally?” Mickey asks. 

“Obviously, man. Your pops ain’t no scrub,” Richie scoffs. 

“Dude!” Mickey yelps. He’s grinning, his face bright as the sun. Eddie is smiling, unable to help himself. God, but their son is just so beautiful with all Richie's floppy brown hair and Eddie's sleepy eyes behind those magnifying glass glasses. “What else is going on?”

“What makes you think anything else is up?” Richie asks. 

“Dad’s got that face on, like he doesn’t wanna ruin something,” Mickey confides. Mickey points his chopsticks at Eddie. “That face.”

“Chopsticks down,” Eddie reminds. Mickey sighs, but lowers them. “I’m quitting my job.”

“Whoa, really?” Mickey says, looking a bit nervous. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Eddie soothes. He reaches out and pushes Mickey’s glasses up his nose. “I just need a bit of a change, Mickey.”

“So, what are you gonna do now? Be Pops’ trophy husband or something?” Mickey says with a laugh. Eddie frowns at him and then glares at Richie when his husband snorts with laughter. 

“Really, you two?”

“Legitimate question,” Richie defends. “Go on, tell our son what you wanna do.”

“I am going to start my own business. A car service,” Eddie says, before Mickey can ask. 

“Well, you’re smart, Dad,” Mickey says. “I don’t know how any of that works, but I know you do. That’s sorta cool. Does this mean you’re gonna be home more?” Mickey asks in excitement. 

“Yeah, it does,” Eddie says, smiling. It’s nice to know their son still enjoys their company and doesn’t think they’re too uncool yet. But then Mickey is frowning and looking at Richie. 

“Does this mean you won’t be?” 

Richie and Eddie share a look, but Eddie nods to him. They’ve never lied to Mickey about anything - not about their sexuality, Eddie’s gender, why they moved - so they’re not about to now. 

“Yeah, if this goes well, we’re gonna need to adjust. There’ll be a lot of times when I’m home so much you won’t be able to stand it. But then, there’s gonna be times when I’m gone for a bit,” Richie admits. He nudges Mickey’s shin under the table with the toe of his sneaker. “Hey, bud.” Mickey looks up at them, still upset. “Look at it this way. We’re not moving and I’ll always come home to you two.”

“He really will,” Eddie says. “And whenever you miss him too much, we can always call him up. Remember that cool software, Skype? They just updated it to work on our computers with those webcams we bought last month. We can video-chat him.”

“That  _ is _ pretty cool,” Mickey admits. He sighs. “Okay. This is kinda hard, but I’m also excited. Everyone at school is gonna think I’m really cool once my pops is on TV and my dad’s name is all over the city.” His grin is back, a wide gap between his front teeth that their dentist  _ insists _ will close up when Mickey’s wisdom teeth come in. 

“Don’t get too crazy yet,” Eddie cautions, but he’s smiling too. Mickey’s happiness is always contagious. Eddie remembers when he used to grin as a baby. Once Eddie or Richie saw, they just couldn’t stop smiling too. And his baby laugh,  _ god _ . Eddie knows they have an old home-video somewhere of Mickey laughing at Ben and Mike. He needs to revisit that. He’s definitely going to need the nostalgic boost of happiness if he’s going to really get this business on the road. 

* * *

Suzie and Rita agree to partner with Eddie, and Richie’s special goes viral. 

Eddie and Mickey are invited to see it with the live audience, and they go. Mickey is enamored, though some of the more raunchy humor goes over his head. At the end, Richie gives them a shoutout. He’d warned Eddie that if the network approved of it, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Richie had never been one to back down. 

“Thank you all so much for being amazing, no seriously, even the people who didn’t really get the joke but laughed along with everyone else,” Richie says to another chorus of laughter. “You guys are the real MVPs. I’m telling you, it’s all in the fill.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Someone up front shrieks in hysterics. Eddie can’t stop smiling and Mickey is bouncing in his seat. “Actually, I got the greenlight to say thanks and hello to my family, who are in the crowd. So I’m gonna do that.” There are a few cat calls and someone close to the stage must pout enough because Richie says, “What, c’mon, you  _ had _ to see that coming. A stud like me wouldn’t be single still!” More laughter. Eddie’s face is on  _ fire. _ “But seriously, thank you to my wonderful spouse - my  _ husband _ , and our son, who are in the crowd. You two are my best support and my biggest fans.” 

There’s a beat of silence and then  _ screams _ of support. Sure, Eddie can hear a boo or two, but overwhelmingly, people are clapping. 

And then, someone stands. 

Someone else follows, and then another, and Eddie is on his feet, Mickey jumping next to him. He’s screaming too, Mickey is shouting at the top of his lungs. The standing ovation is deafening. Richie is saying something about just copying Ellen Degeneres, but no one can hear him over the applause. That’s when Eddie knows: Richie just made it  _ big _ . If anything, the ratings are going to go up with his last line. It isn’t like Richie made a big show of coming out like other celebrities had - he’d just said hello and thanks to his family for supporting him. And that’s subtle enough and  _ genuine _ . No one can complain that he’s shoved his sexuality in their faces. He’s just greeting his family, like so many others have before him. 

Richie actually looks embarrassed at the reaction. The curtains are closing and he’s still staring, awestruck. People around Eddie and Mickey are talking animatedly about how  _ good _ the show had been, about how  _ cool _ it is that Richie had a family he’s proud of enough to shout out to like that. They’re praising the network for allowing Richie to speak. 

Eddie grabs Mickey’s hand and gets them the hell out of there. He flashes the visitor’s badge at the backstage entrance and gets in, making a beeline to Richie’s room. He finds Richie talking to three people, a woman and two men. They’re all congratulating him, one with a laptop, another on the phone, and the last one with a handful of paperwork. 

“Is this the family?” the woman on the laptop says with a smile. She’s dressed in a sharp pant suit that’s mauve in color and ruffled at the front. 

“Indeed it is,” Richie responds. He doesn’t say anything else, just strides over to Eddie and kisses him on the mouth before Eddie can say anything either. “You proud of me Eds?” Richie asks. 

“So fucking much,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth. Mickey starts tugging on their coats, trying to get their attention. 

“Pops! Pops! That was - that was so  _ cool _ , and - and you  _ mentioned _ us!” Mickey gabs excitedly. Eddie thinks he might vibrate out of his skin. Richie bends down and squeezes their son into a tight hug. Mickey hugs him back, just as excited and grateful. It’s late, but tomorrow is the weekend and Mickey can sleep in. 

“Thanks for being there, buddy,” Richie says against Mickey’s hair. He presses kiss after kiss after kiss across Mickey’s face, causing the young teen to shriek with laughter and try and get away, but Richie holds on and tickles him until Mickey has tears down his face. 

Eddie can only watch, his smile feeling like a permanent fixture. He loves his family so much. He’s so lucky. He just feels so, so lucky. 

“Richie!” the man on the phone says. “Richie, we’ve got  _ numbers _ , my man. We’ve got  _ the _ numbers!”

“Yeah?” Richie calls over Mickey’s head, not getting up or running over. “Sweet!” He grins up at Eddie and winks. “Big weekend talks?” he asks the man. 

“Oh yeah,” the man with the paperwork says. “Big weekend talks.” He looks at Richie where he’s still with Mickey and Eddie, not looking like he’s going to be getting up any time soon. “But you know what, man? Go home. Celebrate with your family. I’ll call you on Monday. And don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere. We want you right where we’ve got you.”

“Thanks, Phil,” Richie says, the gratitude bleeding out into his tone. Because he doesn’t want the fame and glory if he has to sacrifice his family for it. At least Phil seems to get that. The other man looks like he wants to argue, but Phil shakes his head and that ends it. Phil must have some type of seniority over him. The woman just smiles and waves goodbye to them. 

“When he falls asleep,” Richie says into Eddie’s ear as they’re making their way out of the venue, “I am going to fuck you so hard into the matress, your body will leave an imprint there.”

Eddie’s throat goes dry at that. Fuck. And they still have to get something to eat, entertain Mickey until he falls asleep, and shower. Well, Eddie concedes, maybe they can move the showering to  _ after _ everything’s said and done. 

* * *

By December, Eddie has a fleet of seven cars, a staff of five, and seven clients to go along with it. He drives them all over the city and even one of the higher class ones into upstate New York for meetings. He has three interviews this week because their clients are already passing on their names to friends and he’s been getting emails from potential clients. Mickey has been fielding emails by rate of importance once his homework is finished. 

“Hey, my name is on that company too!” he points out. “I wanna help.”

Eddie lets him, mostly because Richie is in California for the whole week, meeting with the parent company that he’s going to be working with. He will be stationed at their studio in New York City, but he does have to get his preliminaries out of the way in Los Angeles. Mickey misses him terribly, and so does Eddie, to be honest. They’ve never really been this far away from each other for this long before. 

“You think Pops is doing okay?” Mickey asks as he forwards another application to Eddie. Mickey’s staring at his computer screen, glasses slid all the way down his nose, sitting next to Eddie on the couch. 

“I think if he wasn’t, he would have called by now to complain. Your Pops is the biggest baby I’ve ever met. He cries more than you did when you were little,” Eddie says, nudging Mickey’s shoulder with his own. It gets Mickey to look up and crack a smile. “Push your glasses up, baby,” Eddie reminds, then turns back to his own work. 

By the end of the week, he’s hired two more drivers, which takes the pressure off him to fill in when all seven of their clients need their services at the same time. Now, Eddie can focus on getting a few more cars so they can take on more clients. With what they’ve made in the few months they’ve been operational, they’ll be able to buy these cars outright without having to take a loan out. It’s exciting. He’s already seeing a return  _ and _ he’s able to pay his drivers a few dollars above minimum wage, which is better than a lot of other startups out there. 

In the next few months, if their numbers keep doing well, he’ll look into insurance packages. He knows the best way to keep your workers is to have decent benefits and pay. Insurance and paid time off are two things that will snag anyone. As it is, all they can offer right now is sick time. But their people have been seeing that the pay is steady and the work isn’t awful. He has faith in them. Suzie and Rita are having a ball as well. Things have been going well on their end. Rita takes care of the cars and Suzie has taken on training their new hires and being their dispatcher. Both women are more than happy to let him deal with all the chaff in the background. 

Friday rolls around and Richie finally has some time to call them in the evening. Eddie has downloaded the Skype software and hooked up their webcam. It perches on top of their desktop while he and Mickey sit in front of it, waiting for Richie to answer the call. A few seconds later, the screen goes dark and then Richie’s face fills the space. He’s too close, and Mickey laughs in delight, telling him so. 

“Oh, there we go,” Richie says, setting the camera a good distance away from him. They can see him and the headboard of the hotel bed behind him. “Ah! My favorite humans in the world. Look at you two!”

“Pops!” Mickey says, waving. He squishes closer to Eddie, getting too close to the camera as well. “Pops! We miss you! Is LA cool?”

“It’s hot, actually,” Richie jokes, making Mickey groan, though he  _ is _ still smiling. “No, really! It’s over 80 degrees here, and it’s December. You know how weird it is to see Christmas trees when there’s no snow on the ground and it’s so hot and humid outside my hair goes crazy?” He angles the camera up more to show his hair, frizzy with the curls limp and askew. 

“That’s weird,” Mickey agrees. 

“Hey there, husband of mine,” Eddie interjects. He winks. 

“Hello, love of my life,” Richie responds. There’s something in his eyes. He looks tired, worn down. But the relief at seeing them is written in the lines of his face. 

“How’s things?”

“Eh.” Richie shrugs. “Paperwork has been done, I have been assigned an agent - who also did a stint as an attorney, so she is  _ very _ nitpicky about looking over anything I have to sign. Which is probably good?” He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a lot. They have a team to help me with the jokes, if I need it. They do have to edit, then help me become a brand or whatever.” 

“Sounding a bit disillusioned there,” Eddie says. “Already?”

“Nah,” Richie sighs. “Apparently, this is as involved in the background crap that I’m gonna get.”

“What’s disillusioned mean?” Mickey asks. 

“Um. Like something isn’t as cool as you thought it was because you know how it works now,” Richie says. He looks at Eddie. “Right?”

“Yeah, in this context, pretty much,” Eddie agrees. 

“Huh. Is it not fun?” Mickey asks. 

“Not this boring stuff. Writing and telling jokes is the fun part,” Richie tells him, grinning. “Don’t worry, buddy.” 

“Did you get us anything?” Mickey asks. 

_“Macaulay,”_ Eddie admonishes. “Really?”

“What? He’s in LA! I want a keychain or something,” Mickey says. He pouts. 

“That’s fine, maybe I did get you something. Maybe I didn’t,” Richie teases. He winks and Mickey giggles. Eddie is just happy to see a smile on Mickey’s face. He’s been so glum this week. Eddie knows it’s going to be an adjustment when Richie  _ really _ starts touring around and doing shows that aren’t in the Mid-Atlantic or New England, or anywhere he can easily come back that night or the next morning. He’s going to have to discuss that with Richie. 

“Surprises! I love surprises,” Mickey says, knowing full-well that his father has probably gotten him something already. “I’ve been helping Dad with the car service stuff. And we - we hired two more people and bought some more cars!” 

“Wow, you two  _ have _ been busy,” Richie says. “How’s school?” Mickey makes a face. “Awh, come on. Spill the deets, kiddo. I haven’t been there to hear the daily monologue like your dad has.”

“It’s okay. I had an audition for the school play today. They tell us on Monday morning who gets to do another audition for the final parts, and then we do _that_ Mondqy after school. I guess I’m a little nervous. I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

“What play is it?” Richie asks. 

“The Wizard of Oz. I auditioned to be the scarecrow.”

“And from what he’s told me, I think he’s going to get a callback,” Eddie says. “And if not, we’ll camp out in the living room and eat ice cream, right?” He pulls Mickey close to him and kisses the top of his head. “And we’ll try again next time.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says mulishly. “When are you coming home again, Pops?” he asks. 

“Tuesday night,” Richie says. Eddie frowns. He’s pretty sure Richie’s itinerary said Monday afternoon, but if Richie wants to surprise Mickey, then Eddie isn’t going to ruin it. 

“Well, we’ll know by then if I got the part or not. They’re supposed to have a list up at school on Monday morning if I  _ do _ get a…” He trails off and turns to Eddie. “What did you call it again, Dad?”

“A callback,” Eddie repeats. 

“Yeah. If I get a callback. And then Tuesday morning, the list goes up with the parts.”

“Very, very cool. You’ll have to call me Monday night and let me know,” Richie says. 

“I wish you would be here,” Mickey mumbles. Eddie hugs him close again. 

“Okay buddy, go do your homework, me and your pops are gonna talk shop,” Eddie says, kissing Mickey’s head again before nudging him toward the kitchen table. 

“That means we’re gonna tell each other how much we love each other,” Richie teases. Mickey makes a face and rolls his eyes.

“Ugh, okay,” Mickey groans. He turns to the camera. “Bye Pops, love you!” He blows Richie a kiss then runs off to get his backpack. 

“Tuesday night?” Eddie says. 

“Eh, he’ll be super happy to see me home early, then, especially if he doesn’t get a callback,” Richie says. “I’m trying to do damage control on our son’s feelings that will definitely be hurt if the middle school drama club doesn’t want him in their production of the Wizard of Oz.”

“Good point,” Eddie admits. Mickey is back from his room, math homework spread out on the kitchen table. “We do miss you, you know. I think he’s gonna have a hard time with you being gone for long periods of time.”

“Shit,” Richie mutters quietly. “I was a bit nervous about that, to be honest. I can’t blame him though. I’ve been thinking of you two so much that I get distracted easily. My new agent is  _ not _ a happy camper and will only take ADHD as an excuse so many times.”

“Hey Rich?”

“What?”

“I love you,” Eddie says. Richie’s face goes soft. He leans into the camera so only his puckered lips can be seen and makes an obnoxious smacking sound with them. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“I love you, too, Eddie Spaghetti. Spagh-eddie. Spagh-eds. Spegs-”

“Okay, enough,” Eddie says. “I don’t miss you anymore.”

“Rude. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

“... _then_ I did the toe-touch in the air, like when he jumps up in the movie and clicks his ankles together?” Mickey says as Eddie lets them into the apartment. 

“Yeah?” Eddie says. Richie’s bags are in the living room. He smiles. 

“And then Ms. Hirschfield - she’s my history teacher but she’s directing this - her eyes got super wide and she was  _ definitely _ impressed!” Mickey continues, running into the apartment in front of him. He turns around to face Eddie as Eddie locks the door. “I think I got it, Dad. I have a  _ really _ good feeling.” 

“A good feeling?” Richie says coming down the stairs. He must have run to the bathroom. “What good feeling is this?”

Mickey’s mouth drops open and he spins around, yelling, “Pops!” He barrels into Richie, arms tight around his waist, his face buried against Richie’s abdomen. “I thought you weren’t coming back til tomorrow?” he asks, voice muffled. 

“I may have fudged the time. Thought you needed a surprise,” Richie answers, leaning down to kiss the top of Mickey’s head. “I missed you so much.”

“We missed you too,” Eddie concedes, coming over. He kisses Richie above Mickey’s head. 

“Gross,” Mickey mutters somewhere below them. 

“Hush, spawn,” Richie quips, pressing another quick kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Ahhhh this is great, I never want to see California again. I came in and there was  _ ice _ and  _ snow _ and  _ my family."  _ Eddie rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “So, sounds like you’re a top contender for the Scarecrow, huh?”

“I think so!” Mickey says. “I can do the little hop, skip, ankle tap thing from the movie.” 

“Oh, this I gotta see,” Richie says. Mickey pulls away from them and runs into the living room to move the coffee table and ottoman out of the way in preparation. Eddie leans into Richie and sighs in relief. It’s amazing to have him back and solid in his arms. This is the best. 

“We’ll figure it all out, won’t we?” Eddie murmurs. 

“Of course we will,” Richie whispers back. It’s as good a promise as any. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! Not gonna put a time stamp on when I'm posting the next chapter cos things are kinda iffy for me rn, but I like this and will continue!

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the link to that ring if anyone wanted to see or is feeling VERY generous and wants to buy me it ;}
> 
> https://www.kay.com/blue-diamond-ring-14-ct-tw-roundcut-10k-rose-gold/p/V-023568304 
> 
> Also, I have a playlist that I've been making for these two in relation to this fic and their kid so there's that! Africa by Toto is on it, as this is the second time I've put it in this series. I just. Idk why that song is their song, for me. 
> 
> The fic title is keeping in tune with the Modest Mouse theme of that Float On trio, so! Lampshades on Fire is next. The chapter titles are also taken from the song. Great song, give it a listen! 
> 
> See y'all next Thursday!


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